Bloody Talons: Grael
by The d20 Master
Summary: When Black Legion agent Zalheim von Himmel infiltrates the Bloody Talons as an Ork Waaagh! comes to the sub-sector, can the Bloody Talons see through the deception that threatens to tear their chapter apart?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Before reading this story, I recommend you read chapter 10 of my other story, The Power Marine Chronicles: Corruption. The events of that chapter are where things pick up in this story and though I will be briefly recapping those events, it will still be easier to understand what's going on if you read the chapter. That being said, enjoy!**

* * *

Towards the end of the year 952.M41, nine years after the end of the Second War for Armageddon, one of the ork nobs under Warboss Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, an ambitious and cunning greenskin by the name of Grimblitz Toe-Stompah, gathered several of the survivors from Gazghkull's invasion of Armageddon and began wreaking havoc across nearby systems. When the Power Marines chapter arrived to fight in the war which had ended nine years prior, they decimated Grimblitz' forces, leaving him with barely ten thousand greenskins under him.

Meanwhile, on the Imperial civilized world of Vypris, Dark Eldar raiders began to emerge, killing and enslaving the people en masse. Almost immediately, the 5th company of the Bloody Talons chapter, led by Captain Agiel, arrived on the scene to help the populace. Unfortunately, the Dark Eldar managed to avoid detection until the Power Marines too arrived at Vypris and aided Agiel, setting a trap for the Dark Eldar and butchering them.

Now, the Bloody Talons prepare their departure from Vypris to return to their home-world of Ceror...

* * *

Agiel stood with his company as the thunderhawks returned from the settlements after returning the civilians, who had been used as bait for the Dark Eldar, to their homes. As one of them touched down, a space marine exited the ramp and Agiel's eyes widened. It was Iaoth, an Astartes who had gone missing on patrol a week prior.

"Brother Iaoth!" Agiel said. "We'd thought you dead." He said. Iaoth looked at him and Agiel received a private vox feed from him. He frowned, but blink-clicked the icon on his HUD to accept.

"Captain, I have important news to deliver. Something I saw when I was away from the company. I cannot speak it in front of our brothers. Once we are back aboard the _Viscera_ , I would like to speak privately with you." Iaoth said. Something seemed... Off to Agiel. About the way Iaoth spoke, how he sounded and how he carried himself. He could not quite pinpoint what it was, but he did not like it.

"Of course. Meet me in my quarters once we are aboard the _Viscera_." Agiel said.

"Thank you, captain." Iaoth said. He then walked off to join his squad. Agiel frowned, trying to figure out what seemed so off as he boarded a thunderhawk. Thirty other Bloody Talons also boarded the thunderhawk while the other transports were filled up with the remainder of the company and once the entire company was embarked, the transports took off as one, flying up through the atmosphere. Soon, the long, silver frame of the strike cruiser _Viscera_ came into view, hanging in orbit alongside the enormous, sleek black battle barge of the Power Marines, the _Armageddon_. The thunderhawk docked in the primary hangar bay of the _Viscera_ and as the ramp lowered to the cold steel floor of the hangar, Agiel strode down, looking around and sighing. After taking in the sight of the large hangar, he strode off at a brisk pace, headed for his quarters. He walked with purpose through the dim grey corridors of the strike cruiser, ignoring the occasional flickering of lights as he entered a lift which carried him off the hangar deck down to the Company Quarters. When he arrived, he strode down several corridors, past two airlocks and several bedchambers until finally, he reached a door which had his own name above it. He typed the pass-code into the keypad and entered. Seeing Iaoth was not there, he shrugged and removed his helmet.

He placed it on the table by the left wall and sat down on his stone bed, removing his armour piece by piece and laying each piece by the wall. Eventually, he was clad only in a loincloth and he retrieved his robes from the simple wooden chest at the foot of his bed. He pulled the robes on and then sat in quiet contemplation as he awaited brother Iaoth.

After a few minutes, he heard a sharp knock on his door. He rose to his feet and walked over to the door, pressing the keypad by it and allowing the steel door to hiss open. There stood Iaoth, still clad in full armour. The silver battleplate made the space marine tower over Agiel by a foot and he frowned. The power armour was completely spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere on it, not a scratch in sight. That was not like Iaoth, from what his squad told Agiel from time to time. Usually, Iaoth would only clean his armour when sergeant Ikor ordered him to. What was stranger though, was that Iaoth was still wearing his armour despite the fact that they would soon be in the Warp for however long it took to return to Ceror. And stranger was that Iaoth simply stood there in silence, staring down at Agiel.

"Why are you still in your armour?" Agiel asked. No response. He frowned and stepped aside to allow Iaoth entry. The space marine remained unmoving for a moment before he walked into the chamber. The door slid closed behind him.

"What did you want to speak about?" Agiel asked. No response. Iaoth turned on the spot and stared at him. Agiel shifted uncomfortably on his feet, putting his weight onto his left foot. "Did something happen while you were down there?" He asked. "Answer me, br-" He began before Iaoth suddenly drew his combat knife and stepped forward, slashing Agiel's throat in one fluid motion. Agiel's eyes widened in shock as blood spurted from his throat. He frantically moved his hands up to the wound, trying to hold the blood in but to no avail as the bright red fluid flowed freely over his fingers. He fell to his knees. The blood-flow slowed, the Larraman's Organ did that much, but not enough. He felt the life draining out of him and his vision began to darken.

"Apologies, captain." Came a deep voice, distorted by the vox. Iaoth sheathed his knife and placed his hands on his helmet. "But you are not needed in my plans." He explained. "You may feel a little cold and... Dead, quite soon, I'm afraid. Nothing personal."

"Why?" Agiel managed to mouth. No sound came out, only blood, but the motion of his lips was enough.

"Why? Well, you see, I'm not Iaoth." He explained, removing his helmet. Agiel saw a face, an old face, far older than Iaoth and not as pale as a Bloody Talon. His mouth was open in a wicked grin and Agiel noticed that his canine teeth were not slightly elongated like a Bloody Talon space marine.

The man's eyes were piercing and intense as they seemed to stare into a Agiel's soul, a sorrowful expression slowly creeping into his features as he did so.  
"My name is Zalheim Von Himmel, of the Black Legion. I wanted you to know before you die, Captain, that I gain no satisfaction from this." Agiel sank to his knees and his vision began to darken, but he still saw Zalheim lower himself to a squat so he could remain in sight.

"I wish it could be different. I wish you could have opened your eyes and seen the truth as I have." Zalheim words were starting to sound far away, as if he were underwater, right before Agiel finally collapsed face first on the floor. "At last, you are free." Were the last words Agiel ever heard.

* * *

Barachiel, Chaplain attached to the Bloody Talons' 5th Company, stood on the bridge of the _Viscera_ , still clad in his jet black armour, holding his skull helm by his side as he looked at the bustling serfs around him.

"Are all the preparations for Warp Jump made?" Barachiel asked.

"Yes, m'lord. The Warp Drive is prepared, the Gellar Fields are powering up and we are ready to leave at the Captain's Command." A serf said. Barachiel frowned.

"Speaking of Agiel, where is he?" He asked.

"He mentioned how he'd found Brother Iaoth." Sergeant Zargos said. "They're meeting in Agiel's quarters, if I'm not mistaken."

"I see. Well, we're on a tight schedule. If Agiel isn't here in the next ten minutes, we should make the jump and explain later." Barachiel commanded. The serf who had spoken to him nodded and slipped away.

"What do you suppose happened to Iaoth? He was gone for a week." Zargos said. Barachiel shrugged.

"Perhaps he was captured by the Dark Eldar and escape. Perhaps he got lost. I'm sure Agiel will tell us when he gets here." He said. Zargos nodded.

"Of course, brother." He replied.

* * *

Zalheim stretched as he removed the final piece of Iaoth's armour, propping the plating by Agiel's body. He looked down at the pool of blood around the corpse and frowned. That would be difficult to deal with. Still, better to handle one thing at a time. He strode over to Agiel's armour on the bed and, after allowing the cold air one more moment to grace his skin, he began to put on the armour. After a little while, he was dressed as the deceased Captain, completely indistinguishable as long as he kept the helmet on. It would be rough, but he had done this half a dozen times before and half a dozen times he had left ruined chapters in his wake, his infiltration destroying them all from within. With any luck, the Bloody Talons would be no different.

Finally, he looked back to Agiel's now cold body. Frowning, he looked around the room. No sheets on the bed, it was simply stone. He winced at the idea of sleeping on that but pushed the thought aside. Then, he realized there was only one thing he could clean the blood off the floor with. He sighed and crouched down beside Agiel.

"Once again, you have my sincerest apologies. A man of your station does not deserve such an ignoble fate." He said as he stripped Agiel of his robes. To preserve the dead captain's dignity, he left the loincloth untouched as he bunched the robes up and used them to mop up the blood. When the bulk of the sanguine fluid was soaked through the robes, he lay them upon Agiel's chest, frowning as blood continued to ooze from his opened throat. He strode over to the wooden chest at the end of the room and rummaged around in it, finding two more sets of robes. He picked them up and, after some thinking, ripped them and tied them together, walking back to Agiel and bundling his limp body in them. He then added the pieces of Iaoth's armour to the bundle and tied it up, lifting it and, with not a moment's hesitation, stepping out of the room.

When he left the chamber, he looked around. He had seen a couple of airlocks on the way... After spotting one of them down the hall, he glanced from side to side to make sure he was not observed and then walked down the hall. When he was halfway to the airlock, the dim lighting of the hallway turned into a bright red flashing as the temperature of the hallway rapidly dropped.

 _"Attention. Attention."_ Came a robotic, automated voice. _"Entering the Warp in 10... 9..."_ As the countdown began, Zalheim cursed and rushed down the hallway to the airlock. He dropped Agiel and opened the door to the airlock.

 _"7... 6... 5..."_ The voice said as Zalheim rolled the bundle into the airlock, grunting with exertion.

 _"4... 3... 2..."_ The voice said as Zalheim closed the door and slammed his hand on the airlock open button. He watched through the window to the airlock as it was opened and the bundle containing Agiel and the armour was sucked out into the vacuum of space.

 _"1... Now beginning Warp Jump."_ The voice said. The airlock closed again as the temperature dropped even further, to the point that Zalheim's visor misted and he shivered even inside his armour. As this happened, he felt his gut wrenching and heard a crackling noise as purple energy flickered all through the air, indicating that the _Viscera_ had just entered the Warp. He breathed deeply as he looked around. He glanced down and noticed that there was a little blood on his armour. He frowned as he thought of what to do, then shrugged and decided he'd claim it was from the battle. With that decided, he headed for the bridge.

* * *

Zalheim stepped onto the bridge and glanced around at the serfs before looking at the chaplain and sergeant at the command center. He walked towards them and nodded as he took his place beside them. One of them, the chaplain, held his skull helm by his side to reveal his face. The Chaplain, who Zalheim remembered Iaoth had called Barachiel when Zalheim forced the information from him, was bald, with few scars on his face and incredibly pale skin. His hazel eyes sparkled slightly and the short, brown beard on his chin contained a handful of grey hairs. A single service stud, indicating a century of service to the Chapter, hung above his left eye.

"Greetings, brother. Where were you? I'd heard you found Iaoth." Barachiel said.

"Yes, I did." Zalheim said. He opened his mouth to continue but then spotted a serf coming towards them. "Yes?" He said impatiently.

"Captain, brother Chaplain, we just received word that one of the airlocks in the Company Quarters was opened before we made the Warp Jump." The serf said. Zalheim shut his eyes, mouthing a curse though not daring to utter it.

"Curious. Were you not meeting Iaoth in your chamber?" Barachiel mused.

"I was. He'd been captured by the Dark Eldar. They tortured him for a week before he managed to escape, but he'd been driven mad. He tried to kill me." Zalheim said. Barachiel's eyes widened.

"It can't... Surely not!" He said.

"The Great Spirits and the God-Emperor only know what profane acts those vile aliens are capable of." The sergeant said, removing his own helmet. His eyes were dark and grey, his head devoid of hair and his face holding a rather square shape, with a strong square jaw and a cleft chin. Like Barachiel, one service stud was embedded in his forehead, above his left eye.

"I... Indeed, brother Zargos." Barachiel said. Zalheim glanced between the two, mentally noting the name of the sergeant. "What did you do?"

"I managed to evade his attacks and lure him into the airlock." Zalheim replied. "From there, I opened it and sent him into the void. With any luck, he is now dead and no longer suffering." He said. Barachiel nodded.

"I pray this is true. I've heard stories of the Dark Eldar, what they do to their captives. Iaoth was a good man, he did not deserve to suffer that fate." Barachiel said, resting his hand on his breastplate.

"I concur. Tell me, Barachiel, how long are we likely to be in the Warp?" Zalheim asked. Barachiel raised an eyebrow.

"If the Gellar Fields remain steady and luck holds, no more than a week. We may even find that that's the amount of time passed in the Matterium, too. If not, well... It's anyone's guess." Barachiel said.

"Once, when I was just an initiate, one of the Gellar Fields on the _Surgat_ failed." Zargos said. Zalheim looked at him, intrigued. "No daemons managed to get through, the other Gellar Field remained functional, but there was a brief moment when we were completely unprotected and the Warp Drive malfunctioned. We were stuck traveling through the Warp for six years. When we reached our destination, it had been three hours since we departed." He said.

"I remember hearing of that." Barachiel said. "The captain of the tenth was... Drake, wasn't it?"

"Vasile." Zargos replied. Barachiel nodded.

"Ah, yes. Good man. Pity he didn't hear the Guardsmen's warnings about the pit with the tentacles." Barachiel said. Zargos raised an eyebrow.

"They had hooks coming out of them and were _whispering_ , for fuck's sake. You'd think he wouldn't need a warning." Zargos replied. As the two continued to speak about various past captains and battles, Zalheim began noting everything they said in the back of his mind. In his experience, listening in on conversations between Astartes about past campaigns oft came in handy at a later stage, allowing him to better blend in by discussing things.

"No, Zargos, Drake wasn't a terrible captain, by the Emperor." Barachiel said, exasperated.

"He nearly got Chapter Master Hellsing _killed_ when he ordered the whirlwinds to fire." Zargos replied. "Along with half the tenth."

"He'd just been told that they were dead already. And in that same battle, he nearly died himself to try and defend Oberon." Barachiel protested.

"And now he's a dreadnought. Some leadership skills he had there." Zargos said sarcastically. Barachiel scowled, revealing a pair of elongated canine teeth that Zalheim assumed were common among this chapter, having noticed it on Iaoth and Agiel.

"What do you make of this, Agiel?" Barachiel asked. Zalheim shrugged.

"He should have waited until he was certain that all the living brothers were clear. Ordering that bombardment was reckless." Zalheim said. In truth, he had no idea what he was talking about, but now, lies came easily to him. Barachiel scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, the bombardment was reckless." Barachiel admitted. "But he redeemed himself in that battle, you cannot deny he was not brave." Barachiel said. Zalheim nodded.

"He only shot at an overgrown greenskin." Zargos said, grinning. He too displayed those long canine teeth which Zalheim found somewhat unsettling.

"That 'overgrown greenskin' was a damned Squiggoth, Zargos." Barachiel said. "You were there, you saw the size of its tusks. I'd like to see you still on your feet after facing it down and getting one of those rammed through your abdomen." He continued. A smile touched the corner of Zalheim's lips as Barachiel spoke. From the sounds of things, this seemed to be fairly usual banter between the two. He imagined that Agiel, Barachiel and Zargos were all rather close. Like many other things he had picked up in this conversation, it was information that would come in handy later. As he pondered this, the two continued to speak, with Zalheim only half paying attention.

* * *

A week after departure from Vyrpis, the _Viscera_ shot from the Warp into orbit of the stormy blue world of Ceror. Right in the center of the hemisphere facing the ship lay the large, sole continent on the planet, a lush green affair which housed the planet's entire population, as well as the Fortress Monastery of the Bloody Talons chapter.

Already in orbit of Ceror lay seven strike cruisers and a single massive battle barge, the _Dracula_. The Bloody Talons also had one other battle barge, the _Nosferatu_ , and half a dozen more strike cruisers, but none of them were currently in the sub-sector.

As trails of purple smoke and energy flowed from the jagged hull of the _Viscera_ , its hangars were abuzz with activity as landing crafts were prepared.

* * *

As the thunderhawk gunships touched down in the starport a few dozen miles from the Bloody Talons fortress-monastery, Blooded Sword, the landing ramps began to lower. Zalheim was the first off his own transport, head held high and chest puffed out as if he truly belonged. As he and his company strode through the settlement surrounding Blooded Sword, there was much fanfare from the local populace, but Zalheim ignored them like specks of dust. This landing, even more so than the murder he had carried out a week prior, was the beginning of a potentially very long journey for him and he could not afford to get distracted or caught up in the moment.

Leading the fifth company, Zalheim and a hundred space marines marched through the settlement to Blooded Sword, silver-painted ceramite boots stomping in unison as they pushed through the excited crowds. After a brief walk, the low but vast complex that was Blooded Sword came into view, the squat, grey building imposing over the primitive mud huts that made up most of the settlement as numerous icons of the Emperor as well as faceless monsters and warriors shot up into the air from the fortress. All along the walls, gun emplacements lay, no doubt to be manned by chapter serfs in the event of an attack as the Astartes fought on the front line.

At the main entrance to the Fortress-Monastery, a tall, scarlet double-doorway atop a large stairway, stood a tall space marine wearing silver armour decorated with much jewellery and personal heraldry. Truly, the bling of this man was impressive and one could barely make out the silver armour or black pauldrons beneath it and on his back, Zalheim could make out the hilt of a sword, the tip of the enormous blade visible down past the man's knees. He wore no helmet, his gnarled and grizzled features laid bare for all the world to see. His skin was deathly pale, short and slicked back stark white hair and a thick white beard framing his oval shaped face. His nose had clearly been smashed and broken several times, resembling less an actual nose and more a hasty dab of flesh slapped onto a scarred face with two small holes indicating it had a function. However, the most striking feature of this man were his piercing scarlet eyes, which seemed to puncture right through Zalheim's facade and armour and search into his soul. Though they were slightly intimidating, Zalheim paid these thoughts no mind and stepped forward to meet this man.

"Hello, Agiel. I trust the campaign went well?" The man said, smiling to reveal those elongated canines that Zalheim still had not grown used to.

"Of course, Chapter Master Hellsing." Zalheim said, using the information he had gathered over the past week and making an educated guess. The lack of a response to this name indicated Zalheim had correctly identified the man. "They fell by the hundreds before our blood lust." He said as the Chapter Master offered a hand. "I would be glad to tell you more, should you wish it." Zalheim continued as he grasped the proffered hand firmly. Though he hid it well, Zalheim was wracked with nervousness. If he messed up anywhere along the line, things could get awkward quick. He tried to recall what he could of the Bloody Talons etiquette and rituals that he had observed so far, but a week was not enough time to become truly familiar with their ways and so he took extra care with his lies.

As he considered this, the Chapter Master, who Zalheim vaguely recalled the first name of Oberon as belonging to him, slapped him on the back.

"Good to hear, Agiel. Now, I'd love to hear more, but first, I have to know... Did you have any trouble controlling your... Urges? I remember from the examinations that your Omophagea is more mutated than usual, even among our chapter." Oberon said. Zalheim hesitated, but before he had to think of an answer, Barachiel strode forth from the company.

"He performed admirably, Chapter Master. Not once did he succumb to the Hunger." Barachiel said, smiling.

"Thank you, Brother," Zalheim nodded in appreciation to Barachiel before returning his gaze to the chapter master. "He is correct. Though I'll admit, it was... Tempting. I denied myself such luxuries. To do otherwise would shame me in the emperor's eyes."

"Indeed." Oberon said. "Some among our progenitors think us blessed, to only have to face one of the Primarch's Twin Curses, but we no better. We would gladly take a Death Company to the savagery that lies within us all." He said, shuddering. So the Bloody Talons were successors of the Blood Angels, Zalheim noted. He supposed that was fairly obvious, in retrospect. And for some reason, they did not suffer from the Black Rage, but instead a mutated Omophagea made the Red Thirst a far greater issue. Perhaps this was why Barachiel had called it the Hunger, not the Red Thirst. This was something he would have to look into.

"But in any case, it is a burden we must all bear." Oberon said, sighing. "You have done well. I would love the chance to hear more about the campaign, but I'm sure you and your men are weary. Go, rest and we shall catch up later. Emperor keep you, Captain, Chaplain." He said. Barachiel nodded and strode off while Zalheim remained for a moment, almost forgetting others waited on his word. He remembered, and waved off the fifth company. They disbanded and as they slowly moved away, Zalheim remained, standing with his arms folded behind his back.

"Yes, Agiel?" Oberon asked when the last of the fifth had cleared away.

"I was only wondering, how things were going in the Monastery." Zalheim asked.

"Rather well. In fact, just yesterday, the first of the Aspirants arrived. You know the kind, the ones who live so close to the monastery they barely have to walk ten meters. The ones who usually die first in the Blood Trial, I've found." Oberon responded.

"Excellent! It's been far too long since I last saw some sport. Perhaps these will fare better than the last bunch." Zalheim began casually walking towards the monastery, hands still clasped behind his back as he talked. "I must say, it is good to be home." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he'd done this too many times to give himself away with something as simple as a sneer or a scoff of disgust. The entire planet seemed to smell like fresh rain, which he supposed was its sole redeeming quality. Otherwise it was a terrible place to call home. No civilization, no war, no refined luxuries or goods like one might get from the more significant worlds of the galaxy.

"Yes. Returning home after a hard battle never quite loses its wonder." Oberon said, nodding thoughtfully. "One can never get over the contrast between the lush jungles of Ceror and whatever blasted hellhole place they just fought in."

"Truth, Brother. Truth if I've ever heard it." Zalheim nodded sagely and turned back to face Oberon, hand outstretched to shake. "It is always good, speaking with you. I appreciate your time, Chapter Master."

"It's always a pleasure to converse with my captains." Oberon replied, shaking Zalheim's hand. "Now go rest. I am sure the Emperor will have yet more battles in store for you and the chapter soon enough." He said.

"Of course, Brother. Of course." Zalheim pumped the mans hand once firmly before dropping it and heading for the religious fane known as a monastery. He hated the things. He always felt like he were being watched even if no one was around. Up the giant entry stairway and through the massive red doors, the undercover chaos agent looked around with a shrewd eye. Measuring distances, mapping escape routes, structural weaknesses; all in his head. To the average onlooker it appeared he were simply taking his time to admire the place.

When he was finally satisfied, he located the room under his new name, Agiel, and entered. Like the chamber aboard the _Viscera_ , the layout of the bedroom was incredibly spartan, with no furnishings beyond a low, stone bed in the corner and a desk to write on, as well as a chest which probably contained robes that Zalheim would never make use of. As Zalheim looked around, a look of disgust spread across his face. Even among the Adeptus Astartes, a bedroom could be expected to have some kind of aspect that personalized it, indicated somebody actually _owned_ the room. Personal heraldry, tallies on the wall, pictures of heroes or the Emperor, _something_. Agiel's room seemed to be unique only in its blandness. He sighed and walked over to the bed, reluctantly sitting upon it as he began thinking over his next course of action.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And there we have it, the first chapter! I would like to say that this story is not an entirely original work and is an adaptation of a story that my friends and I roleplayed on my RP forum, though it is a slightly altered version which only contains part of the story, so like... Don't go and read through 7,000 posts to find out the ending.**

 **That being said, thanks for reading! Credit for the character of Zalheim goes to my friend Bahoogasmif, one of those RPers and also an amazing writer who you should all check the work of. Be sure to follow my Twitter master_d20 for story updates for this as well as my other works. The next chapter for this story will be uploaded in four weeks, but in two weeks time I'll be uploading chapter 2 for another side story I'm writing, The Adventures of Cutter and Reyd, so be sure to check that out as well as my regularly updated story, Not In This For Your Cause.**

 **Shameless self-promotion aside, be sure to leave a review and tell me what you all think of this story so far.**


	2. Chapter 2

Zalheim sat in his new quarters, polishing his bolter. A sharp knocking on the door caused him to scowl behind his helmet at the interruption, but he soon composed himself and bid the person at the door entry. An initiate entered the room, wearing dark grey robes.

"Yes?"

"You are summoned to the Chapter Master's side, Captain. An emergency." The scout said.

"Emergency? Of course, carry on." He said. The scout nodded and left. Once the scout was gone, Zalheim silently cursed. Being called in for an emergency so soon could only mean one of two things. Either he'd been found out already, as unlikely as it was, or another campaign was already in the works. Neither of those things were particularly conducive to his mission. Once he had gathered his thoughts, he left the room, still clad in the power armour he had taken from Captain Agiel. It did not take him long to reach Oberon and when he did, he noted that Barachiel stood with the Chapter Master, both clad in their armour.

"You summoned me, brother?" Zalheim asked. Oberon nodded.

"Yes. I recently received word from Governor-General Raiden. A large Ork fleet has entered the Grael system, seized the Grael Surveillance Station and killed one of Raiden's best commanders." He said.

"Which commander was it?" Barachiel asked.

"Commodore Jaim. Killed in a boarding attack when he was sent out to deal with the greenskins." Oberon replied. Barachiel cursed.

"He was a good man and a superb commander." The chaplain said.

"Do we know the identity of the greenskin in command?" Zalheim inquired. Oberon shook his head.

"No, but judging from the size of the force that was described, I'd wager an offshoot from Ghazghkull." He said.

"Didn't the Power Marines mention defeating such an Ork, when we were on Vypris?" Barachiel asked. "A Grimblitz, wasn't it?"

"I think so, brother. More's the pity that they didn't finish the job for us. But why are we here, Chapter Master?" Zalheim asked, though he had an inkling that he already knew.

"I am loathe to send you out so soon after returning home, brother, but at the moment we are starved of manpower. Half the chapter is away fighting other wars and you and Morpheus are the only Captains present with full companies right now. What's more, the Grael Surveillance Station harbours many dangerous artifacts that we cannot allow the greenskins to keep." Oberon explained.

"I see. The Fifth Company stands ready, Chapter Master. Point us where you wish to hold, and it will not fall." Zalheim said. It was laughably easy to play along with Space Marine jargon and rhetoric, though this Ork incursion worried Zalheim. If it were big enough, it could ruin his plans for the subversion of the Bloody Talons by simply destroying them outright. Or, alternatively, it could bloody them to the point of desperation, perhaps to the point of reaching out for assistance. Assistance that could perhaps be provided by the Ruinous Powers. As Zalheim pondered this, his doubts were eased somewhat, though doubt still nagged at the back of his head.

"That's what I like to hear, brother. Take your company and the _Viscera_ , meet with Morpheus and make the jump to Grael. Retake the station, dispatch the Orks if possible, liberate the planet if need be. Do what needs to be done." Oberon instructed.

"This sounds simple enough. Brother-Captain, it will be good to fight by your side once more." Barachiel said.

"Likewise, Brother." The affirmation might have come off as off-handed, but such was the least of his worries at this new deployment news. "Chapter-Master, if I may? Once the cruisers engage the ork fleet and drop us planet side, would you have them retreat?" Zalheim had to carefully avoid asking outright if they were to be left behind. A question like that could easily lead to his loyalty or steadfastness being questioned.

"No, if possible, they'll remain in orbit." Oberon said, shaking his head. "If necessary, they will temporarily withdraw but I assure you, it won't be permanent and extraction will arrive, so long as you remain patient and steadfast."

Zalheim's eyes flickered uncertainly behind his helmet from Oberon to Barachiel. This was the absolute worst timing for an attack. He had yet to even place himself close to the Chapter Master, let alone capture his ear. Everything that was the minion of Chaos screamed at him to find some way to stay, to avoid getting caught in such a mire, but he knew the outcome of such gambit all to well. If he so much as flinched at the idea of fighting these worthless Orks, he would arouse suspicion.

"I... understand, Chapter-Master." He said reluctantly, fighting back the urge to protest.

"Very good. Send the greenskins packing, and upon your return, there will be a feast waiting. Emperor keep you, Captain, Chaplain." He said. Barachiel bowed his head, then looked to Zalheim.

"Best not keep Morpheus waiting, I suppose." Zalheim bowed a little and indicated Barachiel go first. Uncaring whether the man wanted to speak privately, he keyed the vox for his troops.

"Fifth company! Assemble at the starport, on the double! We've Xenos to slay." With one last look at Barachiel, Zalheim suited his orders and strode from the room, headed out of the Fortress Monastery and for the starport in the township. He had little time to come up with a plan to salvage this drastic change of pace, and none to spare on fools.

* * *

Zalheim, or 'Agiel' as he was now to be called, stood before his company as they remained at attention by a flotilla of thunderhawk gunships. They did not waver despite being weary, and looked damned proud of it. What fools they were, he thought. They could achieve so much more.

"No time to rest, Brothers! We join battle against xenos here in our own sub-sector. We will drive back the orks, reclaim what worlds they have besmirched with their filth and burn them out one by one! Glory to the God Emperor. Move out!" The company turned on a heel as one and began filing into the thunderhawks. In moments all were aboard and heading skyward for the strike cruiser _._ Zalheim knew his blasphemous words before would be forgiven once his mission was complete, but he muttered a small prayer to the dark gods regardless after ensuring his vox was off. As Barachiel passed, the Chaplain slapped Zalheim on the back enthusiastically.

"I see you're as eager for battle as always, brother!" Barachiel said, grinning as he too made his way onto a transport.

"Indeed." Zalheim agreed with a slow nod. He didn't wait around to see if Barachiel had heard him, instead making for his own Thunderhawk. There were many things he had to think about, chief of which being how he would be able to return ahead of schedule without appearing a coward. He thought he could switch his own company over to chaos given enough time, but not if they were under constant ork assault.

 _ **"And how will this further the plan, Zalheim?"**_ A high-pitched, bellowing and ominous yet silent and humble voice sounded in Zalheim's ear. _**"Though I must admit; seeing these fools be completely tricked by your deception is excellent entertainment."**_ Zalheim's eyes widened exponentially at the sudden and unexpected voice in his head. He hadn't been aware of any presence in the subsector, much less one following his specific progress. The ruinous powers did not often take a personal interest in their servants missions, only that they were accomplished.

He quickly muted his vox so none would hear him speak within his helmet. Coughing loudly, he tested to see if anyone beside him on the transport could hear, but none looked twice.

"Who speaks to me now?" he whispered. Caution worked best when dealing with a psionic being, and he didn't know for certain this was even a being of chaos. "Identify yourself."

 _ **"I am a being who has a big interest in the accomplishment of your mission. The accomplishment of the opening of a Warp Rift, that is,"**_ The voice replied to Zalheim, its twisted voice filled with glee and anger at the same time, a voice that only the Warp could provide. Then, the voice giggled, like a small child amused by the prospect of some new pet. " _ **I am a servant of the Ruinous Powers like yourself, little Zalheim."**_ At this, Zalheim looked around the thunderhawk once more to make sure all was well.

"That is not my mission, fiend. Speak plainly or begone." He answered with a fierce whisper. Zalheim knew speaking thus to a being of the warp could end poorly, but simply going along with this new beings plan was unacceptable. He had a chapter to corrupt, and would not be reduced to an errand boy. As he said this, the giggling continued, longer, more drawn out, more disturbing.

 _ **"**_ _ **You sure do not lack any courage, Zalheim. Do not think my offer unreasonable, though. Great rewards shall be yours if you accomplish this, and I am lenient. You may take your time if you choose to accept. Perhaps, if you accomplish this, the Ruinous Powers themselves may consider you for ascension..."**_

"An easy offer to make when it isn't your head on the chopping block." Zalheim's voice lacked the anger it held before, though. Such a thing wasn't unheard of after all, not to mention he'd served them faithfully for millennia... "We shall see, Daemon. Do not contact me when I am among Space Marines, or your warp gate will never see the light of day." With that he shrugged off the consciousness and ignored it to the best of his ability. As he did so, the thunderhawk jolted briefly, indicating it was landing on the _Viscera_. Sure enough, the ramp soon lowered. The Astartes with him began filing off the craft and he followed, glancing around to see the other transports all safely aboard the hangar with the rest of the fifth company. As he looked around, he frowned as he saw a pale, hunched Astartes in power armour enter the hangar. It was his blue armour and psychic hood that gave away that this man was a Librarian, but Zalheim had not discovered any such man in the week since he had killed Agiel. He supposed this Astartes simply kept to himself. Then, Barachiel approached the Librarian, helmet removed, an uncertain look upon his face. Barachiel said something to the Librarian and the two began a rapid, hushed discussion as the 5th company began to depart the hangar. Then, the pair glanced at Zalheim and his eyes widened. He rapidly strode over to them.

"What is so pressing it requires hushed conversation and furtive glances?" Zalheim asked, forcing a humerous tone even though he was completely serious. "Surely, as friends, you can let me in on the secret?" At this, Barachiel and the Librarian exchanged an uncertain glance.

"It is something Brother Dagon and I felt, while we were on the way up." Barachiel explained. Zalheim noted the name of the Librarian and stored it away in his mind.

"Felt, brother?" Zalheim asked. Barachiel frowned.

"Yes. All Chaplains in our chapter are psykers. But, you already knew that." He said. Another intriguing fact, Zalheim thought. What purpose did it serve, to have Chaplains with psychic potency?

"Of course. I was merely wondering what you had felt, brother?" Zalheim replied, not missing a beat. Barachiel's expression loosened a little and he seemed to relax. Dagon, on the other hand, still frowned, regarding Zalheim suspiciously, his weathered, grizzled features betraying no thoughts or emotion. Zalheim looked uncomfortably into those piercing grey eyes, grateful for his helmet masking his face.

"A presence. Aboard your transport, Captain." Dagon said, his voice low and drawn out.

"I could not discern the location myself, the Librarians are better psykers, but Dagon was sitting in his chamber when he felt it." Barachiel explained.

"But what was this presence?" Zalheim asked, dread eating away at him.

"Something... Of the Warp. One of the men on your transport was contacting a daemon, Captain." Dagon said.

"Preposterous!" Zalheim immediately recoiled in feigned disgust, his gaze rapidly switching from Barachiel to Dagon and back again. "The Fifth Company does not consort with the foulness of the warp!" At this, he pointed a finger accusingly at Dagon. "You would doubt the purity of _my_ men?"

"Not at all, brother." Dagon said, raising an eyebrow. "Of course, discussion with beings of the Warp is never healthy. I make no accusations. But, Captain Agiel..." Dagon said, leaning forward and squinting, as if he saw right through Zalheim's armour and his lies. "Keep Barachiel close... You may find need of his... Skills, sooner than you may think." At this, Dagon turned on his heel and walked slowly from the room. Zalheim realized he had been holding his breath and let out a long, relieved exhale. Barachiel looked thoughtfully at him.

"Apologies, Agiel. Dagon is difficult, at the best of times. Now you see why I try to avoid allowing him in the same room as you?" Barachiel asked. Zalheim nodded and Barachiel shook his head, sighing. "He suspects everyone of heresy but... I fear this time, it may be prudent to listen to him. Even I felt it. A... Cold feeling. Something powerful. It _was_ contacting somebody aboard your thunderhawk and I know you do not want to even entertain the notion that there is corruption, but... Take care, brother. Farewell." He said, nodding and leaving. Zalheim stood in silence for a minute, contemplating this. After a little while, he sighed and departed. No doubt he was expected at the bridge to speak with this Morpheus before they departed.

After a brief walk through the halls of the strike cruiser, he reached the bridge. Barachiel was not present, though Sergeant Zargos was, nodding at Zalheim as he entered. Zalheim approached and looked at a passing serf.

"Are we prepared for a Warp Jump?" He asked. The serf nodded.

"But Captain Morpheus has been hailing us for five minutes." The serf explained.

"Put him through, then." Zalheim instructed. The serf nodded and moments later, a vox link to this 'Morpheus' was established.

 _"Greetings, brother. It has been too long. Is your company prepared?"_ Came a deep, gravelly voice.

"The Fifth stands ready, brother." Zalheim replied without missing a beat.

 _"Then let us depart for Grael. We will speak more when we arrive, yes?"_

"Of coure, brother." Zalheim said as the vox link was terminated. He turned to the serfs, folding his arms behind his back. "Activate the Warp Drive and set course for Grael." He barked, narrowing his eyes at them. Chapter serfs were little more than glorified slaves and it bewildered him that Space Marines ever pretended otherwise. They scurried around like cockroaches to do his bidding, scarcely any different from cultists in the Black Legion. As the crew of the bridge did as he commanded, a cold feeling overcame Zalheim. He looked out the observation screen of the bridge into the inky blackness of space, the blue and green sphere of Ceror going out of view as the _Viscera_ turned away from it. He could make out the form of another strike cruiser in the distance, no doubt belonging to Morpheus and his company. In front of them, purple lightning began to flicker through space as a swirling vortex opened before them and in moments, a massive hole had been torn in the Matterium by their Warp Drive as the Gellar Fields fired up. The _Viscera_ was swiftly dragged into that hole, the ship lurching and rattling as it plowed through what could be called Hell if one lacked imagination.

* * *

After several days adrift in the Warp, both striker cruisers finally reached their destination, shooting from the Warp like bullets, leaving purple trails of vapour in their wake as their hulls cooled down. Before them lay a barren, grey husk of a world. Its surface was pockmarked with craters and canyons leaving vast scars across the crust and in the distance, a small silver speck floated, confirmed by sensors to be the Grael Surveillance Station.

"Status report!" Zalheim commanded. Barachiel and Zargos stood with him, arms folded across their chests.

"Everything is functioning as normal, m'lord." A serf replied. "Captain Morpheus is hailing us."

"Let's hear what he has to say."

"Yes, m'lord." The serf said.

 _"Well, there it is. Grael and the Surveillance Station. I've already conducted some preliminary scans and something is wrong. Care to scan the station and find out for yourself?"_ Morpheus said.

"Of course. Scan it." Zalheim said. Serfs manning the sensors did so and a murmur of confusion spread through the ranks.

"The station, m'lord. It's abandoned." A serf said.

 _"Not a single sign of complex life. We're conducting some more in-depth scans to see if there's any simple form of life, but regardless, there should be life signs aboard the station."_

"Perhaps the Orks abandoned it after killing the crew." Zalheim responded. "Refresh my memory, brother, is there a human population on the world below?"

 _"There should be."_ Morpheus replied.

"Very well, I'll have my ship scan it for life signs now." He said, nodding to the serfs. A minute later, they looked to him.

"M'lord, there is still life below. Four thousand humans and two thousand Orks." The serf said.

 _"Grael used to have a population of ten thousand, the rest are either dead or have been taken offworld. This does not bode well, Agiel."_ Morpheus said.

 _ **"He is afraid, you can hear it in his voice. Come down to the surface... Not far from the equator, there is a certain crater... You see, there, that one."**_ A menacing voice whispered in Zalheim's ear. He glanced at the planet below. There was only one crater by anywhere near the equator, no doubt the one the voice was talking about.

"I agree, brother. I will take my company down to the surface to investigate, if you have the station covered." Zalheim said.

 _"That seems to be a prudent course of action. Go down and tell me of what you find, I will tell of my own findings. Farewell, brother."_ Morpheus replied. Zalheim turned to Barachiel and Zargos.

"Rally the men and get them into drop pods right away, brothers." Zalheim said. "I propose we split our forces into three, to cover the most ground and find out what is going on."

"I agree. I will lead some of our brothers against the Orks." Zargos said. "If you two wish to investigate."

"A fine idea. Let's go." Barachiel replied. The three nodded to one another and strode from the bridge.

* * *

Zalheim shook violently in his safety harness as the drop pod entered atmosphere. There were five other space marines with him, members of a tactical squad which had lost its other five members in the conflict on Vypris. His thoughts had run wild ever since that daemon had spoken to him aboard the shuttle. Surely one of the minions of the ruinous powers would have informed him of such a being before he arrived? Still, if he could find a way to bring a daemon prince into the system, it could work greatly in his favor. Perhaps, after loosing this daemon upon the sub-sector, he could get this new suit of armour up to standard... It certainly would be nice to wear the horns of chaos once more.

 _ **"That can certainly be arranged, Zalheim. So you've decided to accept my offer?"**_ That warped, strange voice said as it snaked its way into Zalheim's mind, the subtle tones of the voice seemingly constantly changing.

"I still do not know what your offer entails, Dark one. I'm alone on a hostile world with no acolytes to summon even a single blood hound. How would I go about bringing you to this plane?" He said, making sure his vox link was not broadcasting before he spoke. Zalheim knew which of his directives came first and this, being little more than desire and ambition, was not one of them. If he found the task too strenuous or possibly able to break his cover, he would reject it out of hand. Turning Space Marines to chaos would always be his goal, first and foremost. They of all people deserved to know the truth for how hard they worked and how much they suffered.

 _ **"I have already converted several of this planet's populace into cultists for Chaos. I need you to gather as many Space Marines from here under the banner of Chaos as you can. My cultists will then pick you and your allies up and take you to the Crater of Shadows. There the cultists will be sacrifices to open a portal to the Warp, which will allow me to enter the Materium,"**_ The daemon replied, his voice raw with his desire to enter the Materium, and raze it clean. _**"Then we shall show the galaxy the truth."**_

Just as the daemon finished speaking, Zalheim's drop pod slammed into the surface and jolted him from his thoughts. He grabbed up his bolter as the pod doors flung themselves outward, and he and his squad surged outside, weapons sweeping the area for anything out of place. Nothing jumped out at him instantly, so he lowered his weapon and looked skyward. More pods were still dropping through the sky, leaving bright contrails as they slowed from terminal velocity and set down on the planet. He couldn't see any bullets lighting up the sky either, and couldn't hear the sounds of fighting. Perhaps the Orks simply hadn't built up in this area yet. He looked around, feeling the dark energies that permeated the air. This planet seemed to teem with it, but he could feel it nearby, pulsing like a great sickening tumor from Nurgle. It had to be the Crater of Shadows.

"All brothers near these co-ordinates," Zalheim said over the vox, broadcasting his location to the surrounding drop pods. "Rendezvous with me by the nearby crater." Then, he looked to his squad. "Fan out, investigate the area. Let me know if you find anything and we'll meet up again." As he spoke, he began running in the direction of the crater, the tactical squad standing still for a moment before doing as he instructed. After several minutes, he came to a rise and as he crested it, an enormous, deep crater could be seen before him, a few dozen meters of open ground below the rise between him and the lip of the crater. The sound of light footsteps stepping on ruined dirt filled the air as the squad fanned out, echoed through the crater. Then, a voice rang out behind Zalheim.

 _ **"A magnificent place, is it not?"**_ The voice said. Zalheim whipped around and gazed upon the figure that now stood before him. This figure could be mistaken for a human, its body even resembling that of a sixteen year old boy. What betrayed his true form was the horns that adorned his head, and the two huge wings of chaos that stuck out from his back.

 _ **"This is where Grael's first daemonic incursion took place. The site of this planet's coming rebirth."**_

"It... Will not be easy, turning my brothers so soon. You may need to exert your influence to make them cooperate." Zalheim maintained a worried frown even as he turned agan and gazed across the crater. The soft, ash covered ground shifted beneath him with each step forward, leaving his footprints clearly behind him. It looked as though he'd been the first one there in quite some time.

"I know not how many will come, but you shouldn't expect many. Maybe a third of my company, at best, if all the pods were on target."

 _ **"It matters not. Bring as many as possible here and I will help you convince your brothers to join us. But make haste in your battle. The whispers of the Warp speak of an Inquisitor in the sub-sector. Be wary, for a slight mistake can ruin your** **chance for ascension,"**_ The voice warned. _**"Take any precautions neccessary."**_

Zalheim faced the daemon then, as it was incredibly ill advised to ignore them for more than a few seconds. Especially when one was making demands. His true loyalty would always be to the black legion, but his life depended on getting this one free as of right now. He sank to one knee and placed a fist to the ground as he knelt.

"I will do this task for you, Daemon. But should the inquisition come to this place as they have before, I will not linger. My place is rightfully elsewhere by the order of the Ruinous Powers. It is most unwise to interfere with their machinations." As he finished speaking he saw blips appear on his squad tracker within his helmet. His brothers would be arriving soon. With this knowledge, he went deeper into the crater, stepping and sliding down until he stood in the very center, and waited, looking around.

The Crater of Shadows was a truly titanic landmark, the rock jutting out of the ashen ground seeming to slightly move every time Zalheim looked at them. It was clear that ruinous power was radiating strongly from this place, and signs of terrible battle littered the place too, with remains of weaponry and the like scattered all over the strange and rocky crater.

"Captain Agiel?" A voice called from the top of the crater as if it were afraid to actually come and look down inside. They could clearly feel the darkness in this place, and fear would only serve to turn these unsuspecting marines even faster.

"I am here, Brothers." Zalheim called up to them, his voice carrying unnaturally clearly for the distance at which they stood. The first marine's head could be seen cresting the lip of the crater as if inspecting it to make sure it was truly him. Shortly after, all five marines of the squad he had brought with him jumped down inside the massive crater to meet with him at it's center. They did not speak until they were close enough to talk normally.

"Brother, this place... Something is wrong here."

"Wrong?" Zalheim mused as if he could not feel the swirling ferocity of Chaos all around him. "Brother, this is merely a crater. A good place to set up camp and rally our forces to assault the orks. Would you balk at a simple terrain feature? If so, what use are you to me?" Zalheim stepped closer to the man, and could practically smell the agitation flowing from him. A few hours of this place and these marines would be in his pocket. "Summon the others of our strike force. We make camp here. Always remember, Brothers... The Emperor protects." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but the squad didn't seem to notice; too busy with the voices sprouting up in their heads to care about the nuisances of his words.

 _ **"The Emperor protects indeed. Or does he?"**_ The voice of the daemon echoed throughout the Crater of Shadows, scratches on the rocky ground seemingly glowing faintly red with his voice. Right after, Zalheim could hear the sound of a civilian ship blasting across the sky, landing on the edge of the massive crater.

 _ **"Has he ever? Does he deserve the devotion we give him?"**_

"Captain, why did you bring us here?" One space marine asked, fear in his voice. The squad looked around in bewilderment and fear, bolters raised to the heavens.

 _ **"Captain Agiel brought you here so that you may be enlightened. No more shall you be slaves to those that twist the words of the Emperor,"**_ The ghostly winged figure of the daemon spoke as he descended from the skies above, his warped voice echoing throughout the Crater of Shadows, and anyone could sense the increase in Warp energy surrounding the Crater. The air became heavy, thick and strange as the daemon prince tilted his head and began approaching the five Space Marines.

 _ **"I saw the end of this planet with my very own eyes,"**_ He began. _**"I saw its population tear itself apart and drown themselves in their own blood."**_

Zalheim stood silently before his brothers, letting the daemon manipulate the warp to increasing levels of intensity that stirred in him a deep satisfaction. It had been a long, long time since he'd stood within a true mark of Chaos. Glorious. The marines looked up at the daemon, bolters aimed at the spectral figure. Though they did not fire.

"What madness is this? The emperor deserves more than we could ever provide. Who are you, that would speak ill of him?" One demanded, his finger quivering over the trigger of his bolter. The daemon chuckled.

 _ **"What you provide has never gone to the Emperor, but to those who claim to speak for him. The Imperium has all but destroyed what our Emperor strove so hard to build. Unlike the Emperor, they care not for us, but only for themselves,"**_ The daemon retorted, landing and slowly stepping towards the five marines.

 _ **"You are Astartes, our Emperor's finest warriors. The Emperor would weep if he saw how the greedy warmongers of the Imperium has misled and driven you off the path he laid out for you."**_

"It speaks truth, Brothers." Zalheim finally spoke up, his vox making his voice sound deadpanned. "The Emperor wished his children to bring about a new age. Look around you. Is this why we fight?" The empty and dust filled crater made his point quite clear. "Like children, we lash out at the prospect of being wrong. But it is our destiny to correct this mistake. Would you join me? Join me, and countless others like us, who wish to see this Empire flourish once more, as it did long ago?"

The five marines exchanged glances, indecision evident in their body language. The torrent of warp energy was influencing them greatly; whispering to them, prodding them, egging them on to simply give what was said a chance. If it were too obvious, some marines would likely shut down and start panicking, firing on anything. Zalheim had seen it before during recruitments like these. There were many different types of man. But most fell under easy to define categories: Greedy, Egotistical, Bloodthirsty, or Hedonistic. They drove humanity forward as much as any false god ever did and generally, space marines were no exception.

"I... admit. Fighting for those who would rather see us dead is..." One marine shook his head, and a few others nodded in agreement.

 _ **"I'm glad that you can understand what I am saying. Join me by my side, and let us create a new Imperium, one that the Emperor can** **look** **upon with pride. We shall purge the galaxy of those who profane his name, and rebuild what was destroyed!"**_ As the daemon finished that sentence, a small group of civilians came rushing down the side of the crater, from the ship that had landed before.

"Who among you is Agiel?" One of the civilians, clad in black robes questioned, as the group of about 50 approached the group of Astartes. "We are here to herald the arrival of the Warpblazer, Tierra," The civilian spoke. Zalheim silently disagreed with the Daemon about who exactly these men would be joining, as his loyalty was to the Black Legion. If he had any say, it would be to them that these men went.

"I am Captain Agiel." He answered the cultists. "Begin your work. There is much to prepare for." He watched the cultists scurry about in different areas to complete the circle before turning back to his brothers. "Brothers. Space Marines of our most beloved father. Stand with me to bring back his glory. Help me to convince our brothers that this is a worthy cause, and that it is worth any risk. One day, we may even bring our glorious Emperor back to us."

"I... We... Yes. Yes I will do this." One brother stepped forward, no longer denying his ego that which it craved most. Purpose, and room to expand. Soon, one by one the others stepped forward, until all five stood shoulder to shoulder beside Zalheim.

"Excellent, my Brothers. By the end of this day, all of the fifth company shall be united in it's will to see us set back upon the path. Glory, to the Emperor. Glory, in His name." As he spoke, the sounds of voices raised in song could be heard in the distance. He frowned and soon, his squad tracker identified eleven new blips heading in their direction. As they approached, the volume of the song grew louder and louder before ceasing altogether, at the same time as the blips on his squad tracker stopped moving. Then, one rapidly approached and Zalheim looked up to the lip of the crater. Barachiel stood there, wearing a jump pack and with his Crozius resting on his shoulder.

"Agiel!" Barachiel cried. "That is the daemon that Dagon and I sensed! Why are you not... Oh no... I see now."


End file.
